


A Memory of Flowers

by birdoutofwater



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: Gen, ro2sid exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdoutofwater/pseuds/birdoutofwater
Summary: Strigan collects Garseddai artifacts





	A Memory of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jwash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwash/gifts).



> So I meant to write way more about Dras Annia Station because it sounds really cool. But then I got distracted by flowers and that's what happens.

It started with a flower, or at least the memory of one. It was a pulse of color on a small tile. The color was a brilliant blue that felt thicker than the usual planet sky. The blue impression didn’t form any shape that had a name but the woman staring at the tile in her hand knew it was a flower. She could see a garden of them in her mind being nudged by a cool wind tumbling through warm air. The shape of the blooms kept changing but that didn’t bother her. It was the color that mattered and it was a color of joy. 

“Dr. Strigan?”

“Hm?” She hated to leave the flowers but there was work to be done. 

“Thank you again for seeing us on such short notice. Rsvin would not let me rest until I got her the latest hardware updates for her implants and you are the best in the business. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” She thought her client might pause for breath but instead she kept right on. “I know you’re busy but you know how these kids are. Everything is a crisis. You’d think a whole sector of the station had fallen off!”

There was the breath. Arilesperas Strigan saw her chance and she took it. “Karsa, you know I’m always happy to help you and your family. And someone has to keep me on my toes with the new implant options. Now Rsvin is all set to go home. Everything went smoothly but let me know right away if she experiences any headaches or if you spot any off-color discharge around the updates.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine as usual,” Karsa said. “What do you think of the little piece I found? It’s not an icon like I brought last time but something about it told me you’d be interested in it.”

“It’s gorgeous as with everything you’ve ever brought me.” Strigan could tell the tile would be the start of a new collection for her. If there was one of these tiles in existence, there had to be more. And she wanted the rest of the garden. “Where did you find it?”

“I got it off a ceramic curiosities vendor on the market concourse in Shallos Sector. They said it came from Lyarnn but it doesn’t look like any Lyarnnan work I’ve ever seen.”

\-----

The beginning may have been the flower tiles, but the tipping point was the bowl. Over the next year after Karsa had given her the first tile, Strigan managed to acquire three more. One had a yellow flower and the other two had different shades of purple. Each of the colors was as vibrant as the first. The tiles themselves were white and she would picture white stone walkways through her growing garden. Sometimes she would hold one of the tiles and run her thumb along its edges. The edges had a particular roughness. It was strange because the tiles had the weight of old age and it seemed as though any roughness should have long ago been worn smooth. 

She was thinking about the tile edges, more or less unconsciously rubbing her thumb along her index finger, when she saw the bowl. Strigan and her friend Imys were standing at a pop-up stall in Estmin Row that was crowded with dishes of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Imys munched on something crunchy on a stick while Strigan picked up the bowl that had caught her eye. It was the same shade and tone of white as the tiles and the bottom of the bowl had the same roughness as the tile edges. 

It was a fairly shallow bowl with a gilt edge that had writing inscribed on it. What struck her the most was that she had no idea what language the writing was. She usually had at least some idea about the type of language but not this time. She held the bowl up to Imys. “Do you know what language this is? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“Ari, you speak twice as many languages as I do. How would I know what language it is if you don’t?”

“Well you are an artist. Maybe you’ve seen this style somewhere before.”

Imys snorted and some crumbs fell from her snack. “Nope. But I can already tell you’re going to buy it. You’ve got that look that says you’re going to bother everyone you know until you find out what it says.” Imys took another bite while Strigan made a face at her. 

\-----

It took months before she found out where the bowl was from. She never did find out what its inscription said. Garsedd was infamous. It was more horror than tragedy. It was something you tried not to think about. And when you did think about it, you used it as fuel for anger because otherwise you would drown in grief. Strigan had never intended to travel to where the flowers were. She had assumed they were lost to her in both time and distance. The ghostly garden being lost in violence and annihilation was so much worse. 

Unfortunately it was too late to back out of the knowledge. She’d spent too long searching for pieces and now larger pictures were appearing. Little remained of Garsedd and what did survive did so almost always because no one who came in contact with it knew where it came from. 

A patient gave her a voice recorder because he knew how much she loved hearing far away languages. Only the language on that recorder was the same as the inscription on the bowl. It wasn’t just the unknowable words that struck Strigan, it was the laughter. That laughter was the same joy as the color of the flowers. And it was gone. She was almost glad that she couldn’t understand what the recorded voices were saying. As long as she didn’t know, they could say everything. 

\-----

Everything ended with the gun. Strigan had just returned from her weekly wanderings with Imys when her neighbor dropped by. A patient had left a gift with the neighbor since Strigan was out. It had happened before so the situation wasn’t surprising. Her neighbor wasn’t very good with names or faces so it was also understandable that she didn’t know who it was from. 

The gift was a large bag of fruit. Strigan took it inside her apartment and set about inventorying the contents. There were oranges and a couple cantaloupes among other delicacies. It wasn’t until she picked up the bag to put it away that she noticed a rectangular shape from the outside. She hadn’t seen anything inside the bag except fruit so the put it back down and felt around inside where she had seen the rectangle poking through. 

It looked like she was just touching the inside of the bag but she could feel a box. She gripped the box and pulled it out to see it turn the same shade of gray as her skin. She started and dropped the box. She’d come across strange objects before but this was by far the strangest, it was impossible. 

\-----

Strigan stared at her tiles. She wanted to curse them but couldn’t bring herself to. She had opened the box. She knew a gun when she saw one. She had her own collection of weapons but nothing like this. No one had anything like this. It was trying to kill her, a gun inside an invisible box. She knew what it must be. She probably knew more about Garsedd than anyone else on the station due to her hunt for information about the bowl and tiles. 

Some tiles, a bowl, a snippet of laughter, and now the most dangerous weapon in the galaxy. This wasn’t the collection she was going for. She’d just wanted to learn about the flowers and piece together something beautiful. 

She could get rid of it. She could give it to someone else. But that would be dooming them and she was a doctor. She was supposed to save lives. 

She could put it in for disposal. No one would be able to see it in the garbage. But she couldn’t do that. It was too important. It was important to the past. It could change the future. If people knew it existed, it could start a war. She couldn’t let it stay in her home. 

It was proof of the possibility of rebellion against the Radchaai Empire. It could mean her death, the destruction of the entire station, blood on her hands.

She had to get the gun as far away as possible. The only questions were how to leave so no one could follow and where to go that she could never be found. Maybe it would be best to go somewhere without flowers.


End file.
